


I Don't Like You, And I Don't Think I Ever Will

by Ewelshy



Series: Jaydick One-Shots [10]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: BAMF Dick Grayson, Fighting, Gen, Gypsy Character, Jim Gordon Knows, Name Calling, Racism, Romani Dick Grayson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-10
Updated: 2019-03-10
Packaged: 2019-11-15 04:53:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18066959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ewelshy/pseuds/Ewelshy
Summary: Dick was at his breaking point with Smithson's insulting comments, but when he did snap, it wasn't even about him.





	I Don't Like You, And I Don't Think I Ever Will

Dick sipped his cold coffee with dissatisfaction as he wrote up the paperwork at Gotham’s precinct. After much needling from both Bruce and Jason, he had transferred to Gotham Police Department; Jason had wanted them to live in the penthouse in Gotham, and Bruce wanted them close enough that he could keep an eye on both of them.

He ran a hand through his hair and checked his watch for the tenth time that hour. Today had been slow, and all he wanted was to go home and lie in bed with Jason.

“Grayson! Those files done yet?” Smithson yelled at him, crossing the room to stand behind him and leaning obnoxiously over his shoulder.

Dick shifted slightly and turned around, narrowing his eyes. “They’ll be done in ten minutes, like I said about five minutes ago. Or, if you keep interrupting me, it’ll be _twenty_ minutes. Your choice I guess.”

Smithson bared his yellowish teeth and turned around, ‘accidentally’ knocking over Dick’s coffee as he did so. “Better hurry up Gypsy.” He murmured quietly.

Dick sighed and turned around, deciding he would finish the paperwork then see if anyone needed him downstairs; anywhere was better than with Smithson. He wasn’t really a bad person, he just seemed to hate Dick’s guts for being a gypsy, for being Bruce Wayne’s son, for everything that every went wrong in his life. He was also a racist cop that hated anyone of colour, but he kept that on the down-low as much as he could, because many of his superiors were of colour, and as far as Dick could tell, he wanted to keep his job.

Detective Grayson didn’t really see him very often, because he was from a different department; it was just… when he _was_ here, he made Dick’s life so much worse, and often insulted him until he was at his wit’s end. The problem was that Smithson would only every say something when either no one else was around, or he’d say it so quietly, few people would pick up on it. He said it to throw Dick off, to ruin his reputation of ‘perfect’ cop.

Dick’s patience with him was wearing thin.

It finally snapped that day.

It was about two minutes until his shift ended when he felt familiar hands massaging his shoulders. He leaned into the touch with a sigh and relaxed slightly.

“Hey.” He murmured quietly.

“Hiya blue bird- you look tired.” Jason whispered in his ear. He hummed at his boyfriend and stood up, grabbing his coat and slinging it over his shoulder. Jason put an arm around his shoulder and they began to walk out of the precinct, minds set on going home. They were about ten steps from the door when Dick noticed Officer Smithson dragging two young Indian boys into one of the detention cells in the centre of the room- he was handling them roughly, and speaking to them in threatening, low tones. They both looked terrified, and one had a purpling bruise across his jaw.

Anger burned in his stomach and he stopped. Jason looked at him with a raised eyebrow and he gestured at his co-worker. “Be back in a minute.” He growled, teeth gritted. Jason nodded and turned to watch him.

“Smithson.” He said, approaching his colleague with long stride, straightening his posture and smoothing his voice so it held no emotion.

Smithson turned to him with a look of distaste clear on his face. “What Gypsy?” 

Grinding his teeth at the insult, Dick stepped forward into Smithson’s face. “What did the young men in those holding cells do?”

“Nothing that concerns you, now off you go.”

“Smithson.” Dick said, his calm professionalism slipping with his anger. “ _What did they do?”_

Smithson looked at the boys, no more than 16 years old, and opened sneered at them. “I was checking out some leads downtown about the drug dealers, and these two decided it would be a good idea to hit a police car with their soccer ball. They then had the _audacity_ to tell me that they didn’t mean it, and that it was an accident. I am not blind and they actively were trying to drive my attention away from the suspected drug dealer’s hideout. Fucking niggas.”

Rage overtook Dick’s vision, but he managed to stay calm for a few seconds. “So-” he forced out, “you decided to drag them into the police station instead of giving them a warning. And don’t think I don’t see the bruise on his cheek, it is obvious that it’s new.”

Smithson narrowed his eyes at Dick and straightened to his full height. “Are you accusing me of assault, _Gypsy?”_

“What if I am? I know for a fact that the area where you were has security cameras, and that assault of a minor, however small, will have repercussions on your job.”

It was silent for a second, and in the back of Dick’s mind he realised that everyone around them was silent; they’d stopped moving to watch the two of them. Then Smithson hit him in the face. He reeled back, more in shock than anything else, and fell into Jason, who gave him a small shove back towards Smithson with a reassuring squeeze to the shoulder.

Dick wiped the blood that had dripped from his mouth, and ducked from the oncoming punch from Smithson; he avoided the hits with ease, making Smithson more and more frustrated as time went on. He saw his opening when Smithson ran into a desk, shunting the whole thing slightly to the side and making an awful noise. He bought his elbow down on Smithson’s nose with a crack and grabbed his arm, spinning around and shoving him hard against the wall, getting a few drops of blood on the normally pristine white wall.

“You done yet?” Dick growled.

When he felt Smithson nod, he let go and roughly shoved him to side, wiping away more of the blood on his lips. Another Officer, ‘Officer Anders’ he thought, pulled Smithson off for medical attention. Everyone watching stared at Dick as he sighed and kissed Jason on the cheek. 

Commissioner Gordon walked into the room and paused; there was spots of blood on the wall, most of the precinct was silent, two boys were in the detention centre, Officer Smithson had a bloody, probably broken, nose, and Officer Grayson was practically _seething_ with anger- he was trying to hide it by hiding his face in Jason’s neck.

It was obvious what had happened. The Commissioner smiled softly and shook his head. “Have a nice night everybody!” he said cheerily, and most people jumped at his voice. Grayson and his partner turned to look at him, and Grayson’s anger seemed to lessen slightly. “I’ll get the boys home- just get some rest.” He said to him, and Grayson nodded, walking out.

Once outside, Dick let out a breath of air and closed his eyes. After a second, he looked to Jason, who was revving his motorbike and holding out a blue helmet for him.

“Home?” Jason asked with a smile.

“Home.” He agreed, letting the tension bleed from his body as he hugged Jason’s waist.

**Author's Note:**

> I just want to note that I am not a racist person, and that any of the offensive opinions here are not my own. Kudos and comment! X


End file.
